


Heat Wave

by MichelleDV



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Established Ichabod Crane/Abbie Mills, F/M, Please be gentle, and please like it, ichabbie - Freeform, married ichabbie, this is my first time writing for them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26366452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichelleDV/pseuds/MichelleDV
Summary: Ichabod and Abbie try to cool off during a heat wave
Relationships: Ichabod Crane & Abbie Mills, Ichabod Crane/Abbie Mills
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	Heat Wave

“I’m still unable to comprehend how one’s...excrement holding can burst and affect our apartment.”

“We call it a sewer. And it wasn’t the sewer—thank God—it was the pipe,” Abbie explained patiently, her eyes never opening.

“Regardless, if this generation appreciated nature on a grander scale and chose to live more sparsely, then we wouldn’t be required to live adjacent to anyone where their…pipes,” he nearly spit out the word, “forced us out of our abode and into the cabin in the middle of a heat wave.”

“I’m too tired for this,” Abbie responded good-naturedly. “Never thought I’d see you become Oscar the Grouch.”

“Oscar the…?” He turned his head to look at her lying next to him and saw the small smile flirting at her lips. “It’s hotter than Hades. I yearn for the air conditioning.”

“And this from the man who fought a war in full military regalia in the New England heat and humidity,” she teased.

Ichabod watched her in the bright moonlight filtering in through the slats of the blinds, lying flat on her back, wearing only shorts and a fitted white tank top (to his ever-loving dismay and delight). The air from the fan blowing on them lifted the hairs framing her face, the rest of it tied beneath her neck to help keep her cooler.

He’d done the same with his mess of locks, but she seemed much more comfortable than he felt, despite the fact that he also wore shorts and a t-shirt.

“How do you hold your composure in this blasted heater of a room?”

“If I stay still and keep my eyes closed, I can imagine I’m sunbathing on a beach somewhere with a warm ocean breeze blowing around,” she murmured sleepily.

“A beach…” He suddenly sat up. “I’ve got an idea. Come on, Abbie.” Ichabod bounded out of bed, turning to make sure she followed.

She still lay frozen on the mattress, unfazed by his Eureka! moment.

He reached across the bed and grabbed her hand. “Come along, love. You won’t be disappointed.”

“’Cabod, I’m so tired,” Abbie mumbled, forcing her eyes open. “It’s too hot and too late for any bright ideas.”

She saw him raise his eyebrows in excitement. “Alright, alright,” she agreed, gathering her strength and slowly rising from the bed. “What’s this all about?”

But Ichabod was already in the living room and headed for the front door.

“Ichabod,” she called to him.

“Come on,” he encouraged, marching out the front door.

That in itself was strange. Ichabod outside without proper clothes, boots, and that blasted tailcoat—though he’d done without it the past few miserably hot days—deserved her attention.

Abbie got up and made her way outside to find him heading towards the lake. She trailed after him, wondering what he was about. “Ichabod, what’re you doing?”

He’d reached the end of the dock as she approached the shoreline. He turned to look at her, bathed in bluish-white moonlight from both the glowing globe above them and its reflection on the lake before them, and she couldn’t help appreciating his form. He wasn’t muscular by the day’s standards, but she knew the power in his lean arms, knew his lithe figure belied the strength he exhibited. She loved how tall he stood, how he seemed her opposite in nearly every way—height, inner strengths, skin tone, history, grievances—and yet her match. She never got tired of looking at him, of staring into his bright, clever eyes, seeing his large hands flittering around the Archive looking for the next important text or wielding a weapon to protect them, watching his expressive face.

Which, right now, held a glint of mischievousness.

“This,” he stated, then turned and jumped into the lake.

“Ichabod!”

Abbie ran down the dock to the end and peered into the water, its darkness having swallowed him completely. She waited a few moments, expecting him to surface, but as the seconds ticked by and he didn’t, she started to panic, falling to her knees at the edge of the dock. “Ichabod!”

“Right here, love, no need to wake all Christendom,” he teased, suddenly emerging from beneath the dock right in front of her.

She faux-glared at him. “What in hell are you doing?”

“Escaping the scorch with a swim. Care to accompany me?” He swam backwards, away from her, a coy smile on his face, his shirt highlighting his broad shoulders.

She arched an eyebrow at him, and he mimicked the move, a dare if she’d ever seen one from him.

“You’d rather fantasize about the beach than go for a swim?” he challenged, treading water several feet from her.

She stood up, hand on one hip, debating the merits of a post-midnight swim when she had to be up in a handful of hours and watching her highbrow husband entice her with his come-hither looks from the middle of a lake.

Ichabod knew she’d succumb but couldn’t help admiring the view while she debated herself. Her shorts were what she deemed ‘short-shorts’—an iterative phrase he’d found irritating until he’d seen a pair on Abbie—and though she was short in stature, her muscular legs seem to go on for miles. Her tank showed off her arms and shoulders and didn’t leave much else to the imagination; it sat on her like a second skin. Speaking of skin…hers looked smooth and supple in the moonlight. Kissable. Delectable.

“Rather…you can stay there and let _me_ fantasize,” he offered heatedly.

Abbie stared at him a moment before raising her arms over her head in a slow stretch, eyes never leaving his, lips turned up in a sultry smile.

“Abbie,” he warned, drawing her name out a little bit in the way that she loved so much.

Without preamble, she jumped into the water before him. She let gravity pull her down, then release its grip on her as her body buoyed itself to the surface.

“Wooo, that feels good,” she exclaimed as she shook the water out of her face.

Ichabod’s hand grazed her shoulder blade and slid down the side of her body to rest at her hip. “It certainly does,” he agreed pointedly.

“Ohhhh,” she breathed, moving into his space and draping her arms on his shoulders. “No more Oscar the Grouch here, hm?”

She felt his body slightly stiffen. “Who is this Oscar you speak of, and what are your affections towards him?”

Abbie huffed a laugh, drawing closer to him. “My affections are all right here,” she promised as she simultaneously pulled him closer and pressed into him, watching his expression change from indignation to desire as she moved to kiss him.

Ichabod’s eyes dropped closed, his hands spreading wide across her back, holding her in place against him as his feet searched for purchase on the lake floor’s soft sand. When his feet planted firmly, he ran his hands down her back, along her hips, and down to her thighs, hiking them up and around his waist.

She abruptly pulled away from him. “’Cabod,” she startled, the murmured, shortened version of his name only coming out when she was tired or surprised.

“It’s alright, love. I can stand here. I’ve got you.”

He pressed his forehead against hers. “It’s not the beach, but it’s more temperate than the blasted furnace we’re living in.”

“It’s definitely an improvement,” she agreed, languidly happy.

“Mmm,” he hummed against her lips as he kissed her again, this time his hands at her waist, his thumbs sliding back and forth along the edge of her tank top as he leisurely inched it up.

Abbie pulled away from him slowly, enjoying the contrasting cool of the water and the heat from Ichabod’s hands and mouth on her. “I think it’s about to heat up again,” she predicted, pushing an errant strand of his hair away from his forehead.

“Indeed,” he promised lowly, moving in swiftly this time to kiss her as he gradually ambled his way towards the shore and the cabin beyond.


End file.
